


From the Armoury

by leusignac (Golbez)



Series: In Good Company [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Kettle Monk Weapon, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), POV Third Person Limited, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golbez/pseuds/leusignac
Summary: Hien, the Warrior of Light, and a peculiar weapon choice.





	From the Armoury

**Author's Note:**

> For the XIV Writing Prompts first 69 minutes prompt "Weapon."
> 
> This is set in a pretty vague timeframe within 4.5, probably before Ghimlyt Dark, but I had fun trying to write Hien anyway.

Preparations for fighting on the front were well under way. Hien gave his orders and left his men to their work—he’d caught sight of a figure with a most fuzzy tail ducking into a tent set aside as an armoury.

“Ah, I thought it might be you,” he said as he came upon the Warrior of Light bent over to examine a stand of spears lined up with the side of the tent. “Dare I ask how the weapons rank in the Warrior of Light’s most discerning eyes?”

Corio jumped, tail flicking, and nearly barreled into the stand, but the Miqo’te landed on her feet neatly instead. Hien stifled a laugh, but did not hide his grin. The Warrior of Light’s peculiarities were many, but he had taken them all in stride since their first meeting on a cliff under a brilliant blue sky.

“They’re fine,” she replied, returning his grin with a small smile. “Good for an army’s use.”

“Ah, so the Alliance fares much better than Doma.”

She flushed, clearly not expecting him to bring up her little faux pas from so many moons ago. Hien had walked into his smiths’ makeshift workshop to find them in a...rather heated debate with her. She had been trying to help and serve as an extra hand, only for the smiths to reject the Eorzean techniques she had been claiming would make even better weaponry.

“Hey, I’ve learnt Hingan techniques from a Kugane smith since...” she protested, striding over to him and placing her hands on her waist. “I’m sure I can learn your Doman ones quickly enough.”

“Only if they’ll accept your presence,” said Hien. “My friend, I told you then I appreciated what you were trying to do, but it may be a long time still before you see the inside of a Doman forge again.”

“I’ll get my hands on them someday.” Corio huffed, tail and ears flicking, but he knew from the glint of her purple eyes that she was more remorseful than indignant about the matter. Maybe he could influence that situation a little once he returned to Doma.

Apparently sensing they had come to the end of that conversation, Corio made toward the exit of the tent. Hien stepped aside, allowing her through first before following after her, his longer stride letting him fall into step beside her. In another lifetime, Hien letting an adventurer go before him might have stirred a ruckus among a circle of courtly vultures, but he quite liked how that didn’t matter out here.

He glanced down at Corio as they began making their way toward the Domans’ tent, and the kettles hanging from her belt caught his gaze. She had brought them with her to the Steppe, then to Doma, then every instance they’d met since, so he had always regarded it as simply another one of her peculiarities. At least, until he spotted her running around the Enclave one day with a ridiculously large sword strapped to her back.

“I have wondered,” he started, which made her look up at him inquisitively, “Since catching you with the smiths, really. I’ve wondered why you wield...kettles...when you could simply forge yourself whatever you like.”

It was her turn to grin, her ears perking up straight.

“Somehow, you’re the first person outside my company to ask me directly about them,” she said. Her tail swished, and she chuckled. “Not even Artoirel bothered to question it.”

“Hm, I imagine it is because they haven’t hindered you at all in battle.” He considered all the times he’d seen her fight with them, bashing enemies and then kicking them, from the Steppe to Ala Mhigo. “They’re certainly a more durable pair of kettles than any other.”

“They were crafted by a blacksmith called Gerolt.” She was _beaming_ as she spoke his name. “I’ve worked with him a lot since then, but these kettles are special, you know? They just...mean a few things to me.”

Instinctively, Hien brought a hand up to his katana's hilt, unthinkingly feeling its familiar grooves. A special weapon. It was something he knew very well indeed. “Well, it seems Doma owes a lot to this Gerolt.”

“Ah, I hope neither he nor Rowena ever hear you say that,” said Corio, her grin fading away. “I’ll see you on the front.”

He looked up to find they had arrived. The Domans’ tent was nearly empty at this hour, but he could see a handful of his men still on their cots, left behind by their peers, trying to look past the tent flap at them. Perhaps to catch a glimpse of the Warrior of Light.

“Until then, my friend,” he told her, and she slipped away with a wave and a bounce in her step, off to do whatever it was a hero did to prepare for war.

**Author's Note:**

> Ultimate Kettle Nexus, baby!


End file.
